


Venom (It’s Everywhere)

by bathandbodyworks



Series: Poison— Venom [1]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU, DCU (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Nightwing (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Emotional Manipulation, Gen, Hurt No Comfort, Possessed, Venom in DC, dick Grayson is the host, venom - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-03
Updated: 2018-07-12
Packaged: 2019-06-01 18:03:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15148787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bathandbodyworks/pseuds/bathandbodyworks
Summary: Dick Grayson is terrified.There’s something in his thoughts, infesting his brain, polluting his mind.He feels like he should be worried about the creeping black mass peering over his shoulder.-Venom exists in the DC universe, and Dick Grayson isn’t exactly pleased to be the first host.





	1. The Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, in this AU, Venom exists in the DC universe. There’s no comfort to the hurt here, but I do hope you all enjoy it! Feel free to leave kudos and/or comments!!!
> 
> This is inspired by a comic on @pinetrees_ Instagram, so check that out!

It didn’t happen right away. It seemed to have come in pieces and parts. 

What started out as a full day with just one, single minute forgotten grew into a full day with just one, single coherent minute of pure terror and abrupt confusion.

Dick almost wishes it happened slower. He thinks that maybe, just maybe, if the control was slower, not as strong and relentless and all- encompassing, that he would have been able to fight back, and _get help_ , and not let it control and envelop every part of him. 

%%%

It began simple. A quieter night of patrol, something that Tim had always joked would never happen in Blüdhaven. 

He’d heard a mugging only a block away, and had zipped to the crime scene. He swung down, escrima stick in hand as he struck the mugger across the chest. The man had fallen down into piles of trash, and he had stayed down, too. 

Dick had turned around, and the woman had hugged him tight, and she told him that her apartment was only a block or two away, and _oh please Mr. Nightwing, please, walk me home!_

So Dick had complied and gently led the woman home, and it wasn’t until he was preparing to swing away again, maybe patrol for just an hour more before finally heading home, that he swore he saw something that was somehow even darker than the decrepit Bludhaven night. 

He had ignored it, figuring it was just a trick of the light. As he was taking off his suit that night and examining an older bruise across his torso, it was then that he felt an almost caressing sensation across his upper back. 

Dick had quickly spun around, his hands on his back where he had felt it, and he didn’t seem to find anything. He scratched, feeling nothing, and cursed himself for taking what had to have been a bug so seriously. 

He hopped into bed that night, not a worry in his mind, and he didn’t know it then ( _how could he?_ ) but he would come to regret many things about that night for a long time to come.

%%%

Work was where the first minute was lost. 

His entire day had been strange, his mood switching suddenly between unbearably cheerful to uncontrollably angry every now and then. 

He’d completely forgotten about the weirdness of the night before, and had passed off what he’d seen and felt as just him being tired and paranoid again. 

One minute, he was sitting at his desk, his pen easily moving as it filled out paperwork, when his head began to swim and he felt a growing sensation of dizziness stemming from the back of his neck.

Then next, his pen was broken into pieces, and the #1 Brother mug that sat on his desk was completely shattered. 

“Grayson! The hell?”

Dick turned his head to the man who sat across from him, and awkwardly laughed. “Sorry–Sorry. Stressed.”

The officer gave him a weird look before returning to his work, and Dick stared at his hands before picking up broken pieces of pen and mug.

%%%

Patrol went smoothly. Broke up a gang fight before it happened, helped an old woman home, did some investigating into an older case. 

A good night. 

Dick peeled off his suit as soon as he got inside his apartment. He walked into his kitchen, digging through his mostly empty freezer before plopping a Hot Pocket into the microwave. 

He sat on the couch, the cheese too hot in his mouth as he continued chewing. 

He reached for the remote, finally settling on a rerun of some old show someone Bruce’s age probably watched as a teenager. 

Dick fell asleep with his head against the top of the couch, his leg splayed on top of the coffee table, and his arms resting on his lap, clad only in Superman boxers and a pair of socks. 

He didn’t wake up that way. 

%%%

Dick Grayson woke up on the cold, hardwood floor in front of his bathroom door, his socks gone, feeling absolutely beat. 

Certainly not what he had expected. 

He shoved himself off the floor as his phone’s alarm blared relentlessly, cursing himself for not feeling better rested. Why was he so damn tired? 

Dick looked down at his arms, surprised to see a bruise resting in ugly colors along his left elbow that he didn’t remember receiving during patrol. 

He reached his hand behind his head to scratch the back of his neck, a nervous tick he’d had for a while, when he was suddenly overwhelmed with the feeling of _absolutely not wanting to do that._

He stopped his hand in the air before lowering it back to his side. Yeah, he didn’t want to scratch the back of his neck. He didn’t need to scratch the back of his neck. Nope, not at all. 

Why did he not want to scratch there? 

Dick shook off the weird feeling he had in his chest before getting ready for work. He’d drink some herbal tea before he went to sleep tonight. That would fix his problem. 

%%%

He was still tired. 

Every night. 

Every single night, he’d return from patrol, fall asleep, and wake up feeling like he’d just ran a marathon. 

His performance slipped at work, and the bruises on his face and torso just proved his declining ability to easily handle a two-bit thug during patrol. 

He thought about calling Barbara, she would be able to help him, she always had, but had quickly squashed that idea. Call Barbara? He didn’t want to do that. 

%%%

It was on the news first. Standing in line at the coffee shop after work, he saw it. 

His new uniform. 

_”And next on KUIC BLUD, acclaimed Blüdhaven vigilante known as Nightwing takes a turn for the darker with a new uniform and a more violent take on criminals, up next with Aman-“_

What? He’d gone out every night in the same black and blue fingerstriped uniform he’d been wearing for the better half of a year. 

But why was there a picture of him in a thick, muscular outfit with white details? Why was his mask black as well? 

And what did they mean by _violent_?

%%%

Sometimes it felt like a struggle. Things he needed to do, that he suddenly and inexplicably didn’t seem to be able to want to do.

It was like he was fighting himself for control. And every time he stood up to check his blood for toxins, or call Bruce, or even just examine for what that weird feeling on his neck was in the mirror, he couldn’t do it. 

He was losing this weird, perverted battle with his mind, and he _couldn’t even get help._ He knew he needed it, but at the same time, he knew he didn’t need it. That everything was fine. 

Everything was okay. 

%%%

Eventually, he started getting flashes. 

Of a ginormous black being with rows of teeth and a long tongue, with a white symbol from it’s chest to it’s fingertips. Flashes of the being that shot out its own grapple-like things from its hands, almost like the line was an extension of itself. 

Flashes of his fists, covered in black goop, punching relentlessly against a criminal.

Of a hissing voice that was deep and guttural. 

Flashes of men attached and strung up to walls by the same thick, black goop that covered himself and the monster. 

Sometimes, the flashes were through the goop, like he was looking out through the inside of the mouth. 

But sometimes, he was viewing through the eyes of the creature, and that was what he thought terrified him the most. 

He didn’t know if he was the being, or if they were one. 

But every time he seemed to begin to remember the flashes and was ready to tell someone about it, he always forgot it. 

So maybe that was what terrified him the most. 

%%%

The blanking out feeling came more frequently after the flashes. 

He couldn’t remember what he did after patrol. He couldn’t remember showing up at work, or walking into the bathrooms, or why he was currently standing on a roof, staring Jason Todd directly in the hood. 

“– on Kingmore?”

Dick gripped the sides of his head before shaking it. Last he checked, he was swinging around the city, prepared to confront a gunman, and now he was suddenly talking to his brother on top of Sphere Tower? 

“‘Wing, you got the information on Kingmore’s gun deal or not?” Jason said, clearly exasperated. 

“What?”

“‘Wing, the fuck? I just need the location. You got it or not?” Jason stepped towards Dick, and Dick stepped towards Jason. 

Dick crossed his arms. “And what if I do?” he challenged. He didn’t know why he challenged him. He has the location. It’s five words. Why can’t he say it? 

“Then you’ll fuckin’ tell me? I didn’t drive all the way to Blüdhaven to hand this over to you,” Jason said, tilting his chin up. 

Dick looked up at Jason, the height difference serving only to irritate him. Dick could feel his blood boil, his face heating up as his hands fisted and his heart pounded. Why was he getting so worked up? He had agreed to meet Jason on this roof days ag— _**no, that never happened. He’s trying to steal your case, steal the city you worked so hard for.**_

“I don’t owe you shit, Hood. Get out of my city, before I make you.”

“Just give me the damn location, ‘Wing. I really don’t have time to deal with one of your anger outbursts right now,” Jason recoiled.

Dick could feel something against the back of his suit, but he had the overwhelming urge to ignore it. “You think I need to do anything for you? After all the crap you put me through?! Don’t you _dare_ walk into my city like I owe you something. News flash!” Dick gestured vaguely out to the sky. “I don’t need you here! I don’t fucking need you to walk in here like you’ve got any right to ask anything of me!

“You straight out ignore me when I need it, and just walk in here when you need something! It’s not– It’s not fair, and I’m done with it Jason! I don’t need anyone, least of all you, hounding my ass for anything! Just get the hell out of my city, or I swear I’ll make you!”

Jason clicked something on the back of his neck, his helmet hissing as he released it. He stepped forward slowly, the distance between them closing. “Dick. What-the-actual-fuck. The hell are you on? I ain’t here to—“

“ _Shut up!_ ” Dick growled out, his voice slipping into something demonic, a hiss underlying it. “Just shut up! I don’t need you here!”

Dick could see Jason looking over at something on his shoulder, the lenses on his mask widening.  
There was a black mass, for lack of a better word to describe it, crawling its way up Dick’s shoulders towards his face. It was wrapping its tendrils around the side of Dick’s neck, teasing his cheekbones. 

Jason yanked Dick’s arm forward, Dick’s eyes shooting open in surprise. “‘Wing, what the hell is on yo–“ 

Dick yanked his arm straight out of Jason’s iron grip, and looked him straight in the lenses of his mask with a look of pure anger.

_“Don’t–_

He saw Dick’s hands move before he felt it, and he pulled his chest back.

_TOUCH_

He felt his body fly backwards as Dick pushed his open palms against the armor adorning his chest. 

_ME!”_

Jason’s body rolled across the roof, skidding to a stop along the edge of the building. 

Jason groaned as he placed his hand to his chest. Oh yeah, Jason was pretty sure that that was gonna bruise. 

Dick was breathing heavily, when Jason looked up a moment later, and he couldn’t see a hint of anger in Dick’s body. He was just staring at his hands, before he looked up and met the lenses of Jason’s mask. 

Jason stood on shaky legs, and Dick’s eyes immediately moved to his chest. The lenses on his mask were wide, and his hands were suspended in the air. Jason looked down. There were fucking _handprints_ , actual, human handprints on his chest. Dick had pushed him so hard he’d left handprints through a layer of Kevlar and spandex. 

What the hell? Since when did Nightwing have fucking super strength? 

Jason stepped forward to speak, when Dick catapulted off the side of the building, shooting off a grapple line, and swinging off to god knows where. 

Jason sighed, finger reaching up to his comm. “Yeah, Oracle. Hi. We need to talk.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are!!!! Kind of an open ending. Also, I really appreciate every single one of you who read this. A lot. I really appreciate you.

Dick swung all the way back to his apartment before he finally collapsed onto his hands and knees. 

What the hell was happening? What was wrong with him, why did he talk to Jason like that? Why had he pushed him?

How had he left actual _handprints_ through Kevlar?

Dick pushed his forehead onto the cold, hardwood floor, relishing in the feeling of the coolness spreading through his head. 

His arms felt like they were pulsing, but he couldn’t see them through the suit. 

He felt a wave of nausea push up through his throat. 

His head was pounding at the base, a distant headache that was steadily growing. 

Dick reached up, languidly deactivating his suit’s defense system. He lowered his arms to the base of his torso, ready to peel his suit, when he realized, _it wasn’t coming off._

Dick jerked his head up. His heart was hammering in his chest, and he could feel his suit lift up before snapping back into place on his body. 

He forced himself to the bathroom, stumbling over his feet the entire way, his arms the only things keeping him upright. He couldn’t see anything but what was directly in front of him, his peripheral vision blurring into a mass of darkness.

He reached the bathroom, the door open, and collapsed onto the sink. He could see his face in the mirror, his mask still on. But the black on it was growing, the mass spreading out to encompass his head, tendrils peering out from his neck and back, lacing down his chest and covering his suit like a slime, and suddenly, he couldn’t talk, he couldn’t think, he _couldn’t breathe_.

He gripped the sides of his head, attempting to rip off the mask, his hands clawing uselessly at his face as his nails cut shallow scratches into his skin, his body shaking furiously while the tile underneath his feet cracked out in a web-like pattern. 

But the mass just grabbed his hands, engulfing his hands into a black nothing, and he pulled, _god, had he pulled_ , but it stuck to him, forcing its way up his arm, and he felt the ache in the back of his neck pulse, the dizziness somehow making it even harder to see, and he almost passed out then and there, and he’s trying, he’s fighting, he’s fighting so damn hard, but it hurts so bad, and whatever it is, it’s stronger, and he knows he can’t handle it, but he’s trying so hard, he hopes they know, he’s trying, he’s trying, he’s trying so, so hard. 

Dick stomped, his voice screeching out of his body like a banshee, because he _didn’t know what to do what the hell was going on why was this happening_ and for once he was thankful that his neighbors left a long time ago, when the sink collapsed as he fell forward, and he woke up much too late.

%%%

Everything came in pieces. 

A glimpse of a gasping face. 

A flash of a chest caving.

A snippet of a man moaning in agony. 

But nothing ever came with an explanation.

%%%

Venom was there. Inside of him. Outside of him. Nothing existed without it, and Dick pushed against it, but it never budged. 

Nothing ever happened without it letting it. 

%%%

He cracked. 

He didn’t know how long it took for it to happen, but it had happened. He had pleaded, begged, and cried, so hard and for so long, that if he had been actually using his throat, he thinks it would be dry and scratchy and _dead._

%%%

He hated how the thing talked to him. It’s voice stemming from all around him, surrounding and infesting him like a plague, a disease, a virus. 

But he dealt with it, mostly because there was no other option, but maybe just because it felt a little like control. 

He had searched for information, his training insisting that knowledge was power, and power was everything he lacked at the moment. 

It rarely answered what he asked of it, leaving him with more questions than answers. 

Dick asked _What are you?_ and was met with silence. 

He felt a push on the back of his skull, and asked again. He whispered _What are you?_ and was met with a ringing quiet. 

Something prodded him from deep in his mind, pushing him to ask another question, and he complied. _What are we?_

 _ **Venom**_ it replied, and Dick would have shuddered if he had thought he were still human. 

%%%

Venom had come off, once. 

There had been sparks, almost like beacons of hope, and suddenly his hand was moving at his command, and as soon as it had started,

it was gone.

And he was alone again with only an inky black void for comfort. 

%%%

He saw them, for a moment. 

What used to be darkness, an endless abyss of an inky black night, were the faces of his family. His friends. His brothers. His father. 

Covered by masks, with the emblem of their suits shining bright, they looked glorious, but Dick had seen almost nothing but darkness for god knows how long. So maybe they were dark, but he knew that nothing was dark, not dark like _**Venom**_.

And the mass had peeled away, and finally he could _breathe_.

He saw their wide eyes, full of shock and sympathy, but also filled with rage, a strikingly loud kind of rage that begged to be met with a grossly violent rebuttal. The kind of rage that his family thrives on. The kind of rage that they fought crime off of. 

The kind of rage that could get him out. 

The kind of rage that could save him. 

%%%

Time passed by in a way that he couldn’t describe even if he tried. A month felt the same as a minute, and there was no way of knowing how long he’d been Venom. He didn’t know if it would ever end. He didn’t know if he was doomed to die an alien parasite, trapped on a planet with an unwilling host.

He hoped his family forgave him, for not trying harder, for not fighting back, for not being better. 

That is, if he hadn’t killed them already.

%%%

But one day, it stopped.

The infesting mass that was Venom peeled off like dried glue, and Dick was so used to being fully supported that he collapsed the moment Venom was gone. 

He was on his knees, his chest in someone’s hands, and he felt cold, and scared, and he was terrified really, because he hadn’t been human in so long, and what is he if he isn’t _**Venom?**_

——————————————————————

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed!!! I finished this like a week ago but I was working on my ‘big’ story so I kinda forgot about it???? Anyways, feel free to leave comments and/or kudos!!!!

**Author's Note:**

> Ok, there’s two chapters to go, which are mostly written. The story gets a lot more angsty, even less comfort than there is here. I do like the upcoming chapters better than this one, just so ya know. Also, this was supposed to be angsty, but I was listening to John Mulaney while I wrote this so I guess we’ll see.
> 
> Feel free to leave kudos and/or comments!!!


End file.
